


guilt

by jhoom



Series: responsibility, love, determination & death [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, Coach!Dean, Depression, Frottage, M/M, Top!Cas, Two Person Love Triangle, Underage - Freeform, bottom!Dean, dream-sharing, drinking as a coping mechanism, ghost!cas, still not happy keep waiting guys it’s coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8524873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Dean struggles to come to terms with the very real possibility that Cas might have come back to him... in the form of a teenage boy on the wrestling team.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this takes place over the course of a school year (ish). note: i know very very little about wrestling, so hopefully there are no blatant errors (and if there are, i apologize). i think i've got my math right for their ages and stuff but if not oh well. i am so done with this 8000 word monstrosity i'm not gonna make any changes at this point. THREE DAYS of writing to get this done. THREE. DAYS.
> 
> also, i've had to ret-con cas' name in this. originally it was castiel james novak, but it has been changed to castiel milton. i was not planning ahead when i did that. whoops.
> 
> if you're worried about the MCD and underage tags, check the end notes for spoilers/explanation.
> 
> and as always, come visit me on [tumblr](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)

Dean wakes up with a good half dozen people crowding around him.  Donna’s there demanding they give him space and asking if he’s okay.  His vision’s blurry, haunted by blue eyes that can’t possibly be real.  He’s dead, he’s dreaming, he’s hallucinating - there are a countless reasons that make more sense than the idea that Cas is _here_.

But when he steals a few glances at the dark-haired teenager, all he sees is Cas.  It has him spooked more than he’s willing to admit.  So he does the only logical thing.  He ignores the kid completely.  

“You alright there, kiddo?”

It might normally grate on his nerves or at least get a fond eye roll to hear Donna call him that, but he merely accepts her offered hand.  “Yeah, I’m good.  It’s just hot in here.”  He points sternly at the kids and is proud when his hand doesn’t shake.  “Let this be a lesson to hydrate enough before you work out.”

The students laugh a bit and head back to their routines.  The Cas lookalike lingers a little longer before another kid asks for him to spot for him.  

Dean watches him go, trying to unsee the resemblance.  It’s not perfect, but there are things about him that Dean can’t explain.  Anyone could have dark hair and blue eyes, but _that_ shade of blue?  He looks somewhat similar to the Cas he knew growing up.  But more importantly, he looks a lot like the Cas he’s come to know over the past few years in his dreams.  A Cas that - now that he’s conscious and seeing clearly - doesn’t look _quite_ like the young Cas he grew up with.  There’s _something_ different, but he’s so so very close.

It’s not just the looks though.  From what little he can tell, the kid acts like Cas too.  And the way he carries himself is so achingly familiar.  If only he’d heard him speak, maybe he’d have more to go on.  Something to shatter the illusion that’s taken Dean’s breath away.

All in all, Dean doesn’t know what to make of this whole thing.

“You sure you’re doing alright?”

His head snaps to Donna.  “What?  Oh, right.  Yeah, just got a little light-headed.”  He puts on a smile that doesn’t _feel_ fake.  In an effort to get off the topic of his terribly unfortunate fainting spell, he immediately switches gears.  “So wanna give me a rundown of who everyone is?”

“Sure thing!”  Though she does hand him an unopened water bottle and wait for him to drink it all before she starts telling him about the team.  Names and weights and experience and honest to god Dean does his best to listen.  But his attention is fixated on one name in particular.

Jimmy Novak.

And just like that his world shifts.  Instead of being as painfully alone as he thought he was, his heart expands to let in this strange, impossible boy.

\- - - -

That night, Dean does damage control.

The first few times he encounters Cas in dreams after that, he avoids him.  He disappears as soon as he realizes what’s happening, flat out walks away or lets the dream dissolve around him.  Anything so they can’t talk or interact.  It stings a bit to do it, but he can’t take the risk until he knows more about what’s going on.

The next time he goes to the school, he sets up some further precautions.  He talks to Donna and insists that he be Coach Winchester instead of Coach Dean.  

She’s always called the kids on the team by their last name (to the point where he didn’t know the first names of some of the upperclassman on the team when he was in school), so she just pats his back cheerfully.  “Well, sure thing kiddo.  Makes it a bit easier for me.  Haven’t called you Dean a day I’ve known you, don’t know what I’d do if I had to start changing it now.”  

(Though now that he thinks about it, _she’s_ always been Coach Donna.  But oh well, he supposes that’s really beside the point.)

Lastly (and probably most painful of all), he stays away from Jimmy Novak.  Because as weird as his life is, there is nothing more terrifying to him than the possibility that this high schooler might somehow _be_ Castiel.

The kid is _amazing_ .  He’s beautiful and sweet and smart (all of which Dean finds out while staying as far removed as possible - if the kid shines this brightly from a distance, he’s sure he’d be blinded by it he let himself get close).  And none of that does anything to make it better that _he’s a fucking kid_.

It’s one thing to have dream sex with your ghost best friend who’s your own fucking age.  It’s one thing to have dream sex with a dream version of your dead best friend.  It’s a whole other fucking ballpark to have dream sex with a fucking _fifteen year old kid_.

What the hell kind of man does that make Dean?

Whether he means to or not, he finds himself slipping into some bad habits.  He shuts out a lot of things.  School gets half-assed, friendships neglected.  Because he’s scared to death of running into Cas, he barely sleeps unless he’s so damn tired he passes out into a dreamless sleep.  Some nights though, he’s so damn _lonely_ that the temptation to go to Cas is a very real weight on his chest.  

And then there’s the alcohol, a coping mechanism he’d been too young to truly take advantage of when Cas up and left all those years ago.  God knows he can’t rely on his old methods of praying and dreaming anymore.

Intellectually he knows he’s falling back into the depression of his early teens.  Emotionally, he can’t find a way to pull himself back out.  

All the issues he’d thought he’d moved past - his abandonment issues now turned sour at the thought that _he’s_ the one doing the abandoning now - vie for attention with new concerns like his apparently underage sort of boyfriend.

Oh _fuck_.  Did he take that kid’s virginity?

No.  Don’t think about that.  Do _not_ think about that.

The only single hope of getting back on his feet is Sam.  Sam the reasonable one, who helped him when he needed it last time.  But Sam’s at school and too far away to notice Dean falling headfirst into his old ways.  Every time he calls his brother, the words want to come out but he ends up choking on them and saying nothing.

His parents mostly leave him alone, gently prodding him for information about how he’s doing now that he’s back at home.  He takes that as his cue to leave, finding the first apartment he can and moving out to escape the worried looks.  Part of him’s concerned about being so isolated, but Dean’s well aware that being around people isn’t making him any less _alone_ in this.  So he puts his desire to wallow in his own misery over things he can’t change.

But luckily, he’s not the same person he was when he was a teenager.  Yeah, he’s going through some shit, but he can _do this_ .  He can survive long enough until he’s ready to start _living_ again.  So he gives himself a month of feeling like complete shit.  Doesn’t mean to let it go on that long, but then he gets his first D on an exam and decides enough is enough.  He pulls himself up by his bootstraps and gets to it.

He throws himself into school and coaching, because back in the day it was school and wrestling that helped save him so maybe it’ll still work.  School’s hard but manageable, and he starts to remember how much he _enjoys_ what he’s studying.  He’s so well past the random electives and graduation requirements that it’s only the stuff he _wants_ to learn that’s left, and he focuses on that.

Coaching is a fucking blessing.  

It makes him incredible uncomfortable (and miserable and frustrated and self-hating and pretty much any other negative adjective you can think of) to be around Cas that’s not Cas, but the rest of it is actually pretty awesome.  Wrestling saved him once upon a time, and now he’s going to use wrestling to save some other kids who need it.

Krissy Chambers and Kevin Tran.  Those are the two that almost immediately stand out to him as kids who might need a guiding hand.  (Well, there’s a third but Dean mentally reprimands himself whenever his mind lingers too long on one Jimmy Novak.)  They become pet projects of his, kinda like he might’ve been Donna’s back in the day, and it’s pretty damn rewarding to help them out.  

He chooses Krissy because her dad works with his dad, so he knows the long hours he must spend away from home.  And then she’s just so typical teenager in all the best ways that Dean’s finds disarming and charming (though he doesn’t let her know that - he nips it in the bud when she gets into one of her moods and guides her somewhat rebellious teenage tendencies into more productive outlets like wrestling and studying).  She’s kind of like a kid sister - he has half a mind to get his parents to invite Krissy and her dad to Thanksgiving dinner - and it’s a bond that helps heal some of his loneliness.  

Kevin, on the other hand, is a trainwreck waiting to happen.  Super smart kid with an overloaded schedule and high college aspirations… and quite possibly the most stressed out sophomore Dean’s ever met in his life.  The kid’s diligent about his homework and practice… and band practice and SGA and volunteering on weekends at a local animal shelter.  Dean gets a stress headache just listening to him go on and on about his transcript and college applications.

“Dude, aren’t you a sophomore?  Don’t you still have time to worry about all this junk later?”

He’s ninety percent sure in that moment that Kevin would’ve hit him if Dean weren’t a coach.  “It’s not junk.  It’s my _future_.  And it’s never too early to start thinking about it and planning ahead.  God forbid I end up screwing up my college essays and having to go to a state school.”

“ _I_ went to a state school.”

“Yeah, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Kevin amends.  He’s clearly had this conversation before - it sounds too rehearsed - but Dean humors him and lets him finish.  “But if I want to be a senator by the time I’m 30, I need to get into an ivy league school and make some serious connections.”

“Well, obviously.”

Somehow Kevin doesn’t pick up on his patronizing tone.  So in addition to getting Kevin to be the best wrestler he can be, Dean makes it his mission to make sure the kid has fun.  So he plays silly pranks on him (ones that aren’t too mean because he seriously doesn’t want to cause the kid a nervous breakdown, but still ones that lighten the mood).  He sneaks him some M&M’s even when Donna’s worried about his weight.  He tells him stupid jokes, and when that doesn’t work, he looks up really nerdy history ones just to see the kid crack a smile.

“Hey Kev?”

“Yes Coach?”  And the kid looks like he’s bracing himself for something truly awful.

“Why did karl Marx dislike Earl Grey tea?”  He waits a beat for Kevin to pretend he’s not interested while failing miserably.  “Because all proper tea is theft!  Eh?  Get it!  Proper tea?”

Kevin can’t hide his smile no matter how hard he tries.  “You’re a dork, Coach.”

“Aw you know you love me and my amazing jokes.  Better be careful or tomorrow I won’t tell you the one about the Potato Famine.”

“What a shame that would be,” he grumbles.  Which of course doesn’t stop him from offering Dean one of his _potato_ chips the next day, emphasizing the word as he holds out the bag.  

“Hey Kev, what’s the only thing more Irish than eating potatoes?”

\- - - -

It takes a while, but Dean eventually builds up a sufficient wall between him and dream Cas.  When he sleeps, he only dreams about Cas if he chooses to.  And right now, he chooses not to.

Once he has some semblance of control over that, he starts to actually engage with Jimmy.  It visibly startles the kid at first when Dean walks over and asks him about his last match.  Dean can’t exactly blame him for that - he’s done a stand-up job of ignoring him as much as possible - and it just piles on to how fucking shitty he feels about this whole thing.  

But slowly it becomes part of his routine.  He makes his rounds with the kids, makes suggestions about their workouts and diets, bugs Kevin until he’s made the kid smile, bugs Krissy til he’s made her blush.  Then any time leftover is dedicated to Jimmy.

Jimmy with the beautiful blue eyes Dean never lets himself look into otherwise he’ll be so utterly lost he won’t care about all the reasons he’s supposed to stay away-

Okay, so maybe it was a mistake to engage in conversation.  Because the kid’s amazing and it’s all the more confusing to think that way about someone whose cock he’s pretty sure he’s had up his ass.  

But masochist that he is, he doesn’t stop.  

“How we doing today, Jimbo?”

Sweat collects at his brow as he continues through his set of dips.  “Good,” he grunts.  “Thank you for asking.”  That voice, far too deep for someone as lithe and small and beautiful, used to send chills down Dean’s spine.  ( ~~It still does, truth be told, but at least now those chills don’t abruptly end with an awkward hard-on.~~ )

Hmm, now that he’s thinking about it...

“How old are you kid?”

Two more dips, his arms shaking under the strain.  “Fifteen.”

 _Fifteen!?  The kid’s_ **_fifteen_ ** _!?  Jesus fucking Christ, he’s so_ **_young_ ** _.  What have I_ **_done_ ** _?_

 _Chill out, Winchester_ , he scolds himself.   _What’s done is done.  Just don’t do it anymore._

Without a trace of his internal panic, he manages to ask, “So what, you a sophomore or something?”

Jimmy finishes his last dip and jumps down.  He’s a little unsteady and Dean barely restrains himself from offering a steadying hand.  Instead he forces the aborted movement into offering a water bottle that Jimmy gladly accepts.  “I’m a junior.”  

“A junior?  What, you got a late birthday or you skip a grade or something?”

The boy chugs half the bottle and Dean does his best not to watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.   _(I’m so going to hell for this.)_  Jimmy doesn’t seem to notice the unnecessary attention.  “Yes.  I skipped the third grade.  I would’ve skipped more if they’d let me, but my parents were concerned about keeping me with my peers.”

Dean nods him over to the bench press to set up the next exercise.  “Yeah, I get that.”  They each load up one side of the bar.  “Guess you’re smart then?”

The kid shrugs.  He takes the hint and doesn’t press him further on it, easily shifting the conversation to less personal topics.

He doesn’t drop it though.  He respects the kid’s personal space enough not to push too hard, but Kevin he finds is all too willing to talk.

“You know much about Jimmy?”

“Yeah, I guess.  We were in the same class in elementary school for a bit til he got moved up a grade.”  Dean’s proud of the kid for only letting a _hint_ of bitterness leak in.  

“He skipped a grade?”  He silently thanks his drama teacher for how well he pulls off his surprise.

“Yeah, it was super random.  Jimmy was in a coma and missed like a whole year of school.”  Kevin grabs his exercise record and thumbs through it, completely oblivious to how Dean’s frozen.

“Coma?” he stutters, flashing a look to Jimmy who’s doing squats on the other side of the weight room.

“Yeah.  Fell out a window or something, I think.  There were a lot of rumors going around and we were kids, but I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.  Nobody thought he was gonna wake up, but then he did.”

He swallows but it does nothing to relieve the dry lump building in his throat.  “When was this?”

“I dunno, when we were like seven or something.”

Dean does the math in his head real quick.  Jimmy and Kevin are fifteen, so this would’ve happened seven or eight years ago.  About when Cas disappeared…

“He recovered alright I guess?”

_Yeah, way to sound way too interested.  Smooth._

But if Kevin thinks it’s strange, he doesn’t bring it up.  He walks over to the free weights and keeps talking.  “Yeah, I guess.  He was kinda different when he came back, but I guess that’s not much of a surprise.”

“Different?” he croaks.  “Different how?”

Kevin starts doing some dumbbell rows, grunting out his answer as he lifts.  “Weird.  He spent a year asleep in a bed, but he seemed way older than when he woke up.  Took him some time to adjust, I think, but when he did he was way smart and seemed to know all the stuff he’d missed the year he was out.  Figured his parents got him tutors or something.  Hey, should I drinking a protein shake or am I just doing water today?”

“Huh?  Oh, lemme check.”  He goes to talk to Donna, even though he knows damn well the kid needs more protein.  Mostly it’s to get space and _think_.  

The hallway’s empty so he paces back and forth and tries to sort through his racing thoughts.  The timeline checks out, so that’s half the mystery solved.  Though it admittedly raises a bunch of new questions that Dean can’t begin to figure out how to answer.  What could it possibly _mean_?

\- - - -

He would’ve thought getting an answer - maybe not a complete or very satisfying answer, but still more than he’s found out in a while - would ease his mind a little.

Wrong wrong and oh yeah definitely wrong.  

Dean drinks himself to sleep that night before it’s even dark out.  He passes out on his couch, mumbling to Cas about how he misses him and it’s not fair that they can’t be together.  His drunken rambling transitions so seamlessly into sleep that he doesn’t notice at first that his babbling prayer is being answered.

“Shh, it’s okay Dean.”  There are kisses being peppered all across his face, drying the tears and soothing the ache in his chest.  “I missed you too.”  More kisses and a familiar embrace easing him onto his back.  “You shouldn’t stay away so long.”  

“I didn’t want to,” he whines, clinging to Cas’ shoulders and nuzzling into him.  Fuck did he miss this.  Why was he denying himself this?  When their lips meet, it’s like a drug.  He moans and is so utterly lost that all he can think about is Castiel above him.  

The kisses quickly turn heated, and though he knows he should try to resist, Dean’s will bends and then breaks.  He thrusts up into Cas, grinds against him and lets ecstasy take over.  Cas matches his movements, moaning into his mouth and breathing out stuttered little breaths.

“Stay,” Cas begs.  “Please.  Don’t leave me again, please oh please-”

“I won’t,” he promises.  He cups Cas’ face in both hands so he can drown in those beautiful blues.  “I won’t leave you.”

Cas falls headfirst over the edge at that, voice catching on Dean’s name as he comes.  Dean watches, his own orgasm almost an afterthought as he memorizes Cas’ face.

 _Jimmy’s_ face, god help him.  But fuck if he isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

That should be a sobering realization, and it is for a moment.  It steals some of the joy from cuddling Cas close, makes him hate himself all over again.  And because he has no damn willpower at all, he gives in the next night and the next and the next.  He shuts down his walls and lets Cas into his dreams again, lets the younger man fuck him and have his way with him any way he likes, whispers endearments into his ear until the dream dissolves and he wakes up alone covered in come.

Every time he gives in, he can’t meet anyone in the eyes the next day and he feels like a complete asshole.

It goes on long enough that at some point Dean must let his guard down too much.  He lets himself get too comfortable when he’s awake, talking to Jimmy more.  Damning himself further with every conversation, because very word out of the kid’s mouth makes Dean falls faster and harder than he has any right to.  

As Jimmy slowly, accidentally becomes another of Dean’s pet projects, he starts to really get to know the kid.  The more he finds out about Jimmy, the more Cas he sees in him.  He has the same taste in books as Cas.  He’s got the same dry sense of humor.  Hell, he even has the same college plans Dean always kind of thought Cas would, in those poorly thought out daydreams he’d had when Cas was still around and he’d started thinking about his _own_ college hopes.  Back in the days when he was so selfish and stupid and would spend way too much time fantasizing about the life Cas should’ve had.  

It kills Dean because the kid is _so_ painfully Cas.

And so painfully _not_ Cas.

\- - - -

His life reaches a precarious balance where he’s happy when he’s asleep and he’s happy when he’s around Jimmy and he’s _miserable_ when he’s alone and loathing himself.  It’s like he’s gone from living in a constant depression, to being manically happy for moments and then devastatingly low the rest of the time.  He has no idea which was better, but when he’s with Cas/Jimmy there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

After the frenzied sex that marks his reunion with Cas, the dreams become less physical.  Sometimes there are still moments of intimacy - lazy fucks or nights spend cuddling - but things slowly shift back to the way they were before.  Their nightly adventures continue, and Dean couldn’t be happier about it.  

Although the lingering touches are a balm to his soul, avoiding sex is better for his mental health.  The guilt weighs a little less heavily on him when all they do is spend time together as friends.  

Over the years of first Dean’s and then Cas’ childhood, they’ve had a number of dream adventures together.  But now they fade from the themes and games they used to use over and over again.  They no longer explore the ocean or travel as astronauts.  Now they’re fighting zombies (a mutual decision given the popularity of zombie movies that Halloween) or in a band (Dean’s idea) or playing football (oddly enough that’s Cas’ idea).

As Dean throws a perfect spiral that Cas catches to win the Superbowl, Dean can’t help shake his head and wonder how the hell they ended up _here_ of all places.

“Not that this wasn’t fun.”  The two lift up the trophy amidst cheering fans and an endless supply of confetti.  “But what brought on the football?  Never thought you were the NFL type.”

“I grew up with football,” Cas explains without much enthusiasm, as though he’s had this conversation countless times before.  “My dad’s a big Chiefs fan.”

Poor Dean’s so used to the double life he’s unintentionally living, he forgets for a moment who he’s talking to.  “What?”  He laughs, because the idea’s so absurd.  “No he’s not.  The Miltons are totally a baseball family, don’t you remember that time… when...”

The look Cas gives him has tongue tied and then mentally slapping himself.  Very carefully he asks, “Dean, who are the Miltons?”

Of all the options open to him, Dean goes with ignorance because he’s not fast enough to come up with a decent lie.  “Huh?”

They stare at each other for a while, the shouts of the crowd becoming background noise as Cas searches his eyes.  But Castiel’s mercifully uninterested in pursuing it and lets it go without further comment.  The dream shifts into the next fantasy, and that’s that.

Every night Dean worries Cas will bring it up again, but he doesn’t.  He’s tense and ill at ease as his dreams start, and only after Cas starts talking is he able to relax and enjoy himself.  He doesn’t know why he wants to keep this Cas from knowing about the Miltons, but it feels important.  If things are this crazy confusing for Dean, who’s been there through it all and knows (mostly) what’s happened, he has no idea what it could do to Jimmy/Cas to find out about a life he used to have.

\- - - -

“Let’s go driving.”  Cas punctuates his request by slipping his hand into Dean’s.

“Okay.”  Why not, it’s something that could be fun.  He conjures up a rally race course, complete with pre-muddied car wheels and helmets for them to wear.  Dream or not, half the fun of rally racing is the look and the look includes helmets.  But Cas has gone deathly pale, hands trembling as he struggles to undo the straps.  “Something wrong?”

Cas jerks the helmet off and shoves it into Dean’s arms.  “I was thinking more like…”  The world shifts to a high school parking lot (and Dean’s going to pretend he doesn’t know _which_ school parking lot).  The rally car becomes a beat-up Honda Accord in a faded red.  It looks so _real_ and not at all the type of thing they dream up on adventures that Dean can’t help raise an eyebrow.

“I’m in driver’s ed,” Cas whispers, pulling Dean towards the car.  “My parents bought me a car like this.  I thought… maybe we could practice?”

Normally he lets Castiel initiate any contact - it ever so slightly lessens the guilt associated with it - but the kid looks so damn helpful he can’t help but lean down to press a chaste kiss on his lips.  He’s rewarded by a dazzling smile.  

“Of course, whatever you want.”

Dean holds open the driver’s seat for Cas, waiting until he’s situated before he walks over to the other side.  Sure, he could just dream himself into the passenger seat, but he always likes physically doing as much as possible if for no other reason than to draw out their time together.  When he closes the door behind him, he’s surprised to see Cas buckling up.

“You do realize this is a dream, right?”

“Yes.”  The young man blushes and worries his bottom lip with his teeth.  “I’m just nervous, okay?”  He fidgets in the seat, stretching out the seat belt where it’s wandering up to press too close to his throat.  

“What’re you nervous about?”

Sheepishly, he looks up and out the window.  “Crashing.”

_“Dean sweetie, I’ve got bad news.  Your friend Castiel… he was in a car crash-”_

He bites back a wave of nausea and pushes the memory aside.  Dream or no, he wants to throw up and then curl into a ball and cry.  Of fucking _course_ Cas is terrified of driving.  How fucking insensitive can he be, not getting that?  If anyone on this planet should know, it’s _him_.

“Cas?”  He waits until the other boy turns to face him.  “It’s okay to be scared, okay?  We’ll practice every night if we have to so we can get your confidence up.  Sound good?”

“Thank you, Dean.”

It turns out Cas is a pretty terrible driver.  Not in any particular way that Dean can help him with.  The car will cruise along just fine until Cas’ hands seize on the wheel for no reason or his foot will push down too much on the gas and the whole car will jerk.  Which only makes Cas overcompensate to correct, veering the car in the opposite direction or slamming the brakes.  

After a particularly frustrating turn where the car fish-tailed, Cas angrily parks the car in the middle of their imaginary parking lot and pouts.  “I’m never going to get this.”

“Hey hey, don’t talk like that.”  He really wishes they were in the Impala (flirts with the idea of changing cars before he remembers why that’s a _terrible_ idea) so he could slide across the seat and cuddle up wit him.  Instead he settles for resting a hand on Cas’ thigh and squeezing.  “It’s hard the first few times.  I almost drove straight into my parent’s garage the first time they let me drive to school on my own.”

Cas chuckles at that but his body’s still tight.  “Seriously, buddy, you gotta relax.”

“I’m trying,” he grumbles, but he shifts the car into drive.  Dean starts to draw his hand back but Cas grabs it.  “No.  Leave it please.  It helps.”

Surprisingly, it does.  The contact soothes Cas and he concentrates on driving around the lot.  As he practices parallel parking and three point turns, Dean keeps the gentle touch there.  Not always on his leg - maybe he shifts to stroke his arm or massage the back of his neck - but there’s always a point of contact.  By the end of the first week of practice, Cas is leaps and bounds better.  

“You’re doing awesome,” Dean praises as Cas navigates through a line of cones, his fingers drawing patterns along Cas’ shoulder.  “You’re gonna ace that driving test!”

That earns him a bemused look.  “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I doubt that.”

Huffing in indignation, Dean barely gets out a few words of protest before Cas cuts him off.  “I tense up when I’m _really_ driving.  When I’m awake.  It’s just so much harder when…”  There’s a moment where he redirects himself, ending with, “When it’s real.”

_When I’m not there._

Another way he’s failing Cas, failing Jimmy, and his mood sours for the rest of the dream.  It’s still on his mind when he wakes up in the morning, when he goes to class and has lunch with his mom before heading to the high school.  He’s halfway there when a thought occurs to him and he makes a beeline for the nearest shop.  It takes him a good ten minutes to sort through all the knick knacks to find what he’s looking for, but he nearly fist bumps in success when he does.

Dean’s a couple minutes late to wrestling practice, but the stop was well worth it.  He hopes, anyway.  After he makes his rounds and gets to Jimmy, he takes a seat on a bench next to where he’s going through some stretches.  

“How you doing today, Jimbo?”

“Not bad.”  The teenager drops onto his back and stats doing bicycles.  “How are you doing, Coach Winchester?”

“Pretty good.”  They talk about this and that for a few minutes.  School this.  Wrestling that.  The Chiefs winning the Superbowl this year?  (So maybe he started keeping up with football, so sue him.)  Then, as casually as he can, Dean just goes for it.  “I hear you’re taking driver’s ed.  I remember that being a real pain in the ass, sitting there listening there for hours listening to some old guy talk to you about rules you already know.”

Jimmy thankfully doesn’t ask how Dean knew about driver’s ed.  “I don’t mind.  Road safety is important.”

“Yes it is,” he answers solemnly.  “You got your own car?”

“My parents bought a used car for me, yes.  I look forward to being able to drive it to school when I get my license in the Spring.”

“Yeah, way better than taking the bus for sure.”  After a beat, he adds, “Hey, you got anything hanging from your rearview mirror?  Most kids do graduation tassels or lais, but neither of those seem your style.”

“They aren’t.”  Jimmy continues through his exercises.  

“You gotta do _something_ though.  Gotta make it your own, you know.”

“Any recommendations?”

Dean goes through the motions of pretending to think about it before he snaps his fingers.  “I got the perfect thing for ya.  Wait here.”  

The little bag is tucked behind his backpack in the coaching office.  It takes a couple minutes to retrieve it and head back out to the weight room and most of the other students are heading out.  But Jimmy lingers in the corner, perusing the posters with various strategies and yoga poses to incorporate into workouts.

Five quick strides bring him to his side.  Before he can chicken out, he offers the small dreamcatcher to Jimmy.   _Don’t blush, do_ **_not_ ** _blush_.  “Here.  I uh… I had one of these laying around and figured you might like it.  For your car.”

The boy’s eyes go wide as he gingerly picks up the dreamcatcher.  The dark feathers twirl a bit as he inspects it, a grin forming the longer he takes it in.  “Thank you, Coach.”  He clutches it to his chest, though mindful not to crush it.  “It’s perfect.”  Then a frown starts to firm.  “Are you sure?  I shouldn’t-”

“It’s yours, Jimmy.”  Dean backs away, hands up as he retreats.  “Hang it in your car and maybe get a bumper sticker or two.  Something that screams, ‘This is Jimmy Novak’s car.’”

“I will.  Thank you again.”

“No problem.”  He ducks out of the weight room before his willpower crumbles and he does something stupid like hug the kid.

\- - - -

Dean is pleased to note that during their next driving lesson, there is a dreamcatcher hanging from the mirror.  He hides his smirk behind a hand before patting the kid on the back and kissing him just below the shoulder.  When Cas says his day-time practice is going much better, Dean asks surprised (but his congratulations are completely genuine).  

\- - - -

It’s almost the end of winter and Cas has a craving for warm weather.  Not that Dean blames him.  He’s tired of clouds and snow and defrosting his windshield every morning.  So they agree on a beach trip, surfing and building sand castles and finally just cuddling on a giant towel underneath an equally large umbrella.

Though it’s fun and Dean’s glad for the change of scenery, Cas seems distracted.

“You okay?”

Blunt as ever, he inquires, “Would you mind if I dated someone?”

_What’s that?  My heart stopped.  Oh, that’s fine, I won’t be needing it anyway._

“What do you mean?” he rasps.  He can’t bear to look at Cas right now and it’s all he can do to stay still and not tense up or pull away.

“These are dreams, right?  And I… I cherish them.  And you.  More than you know.”  The fondness in his voice does nothing to shield Dean from the pain splintering through his chest.  “But they’re only dreams.  When I’m awake, in real life, would you mind if I dated someone else?”

“If it’s just a dream, why you bothering to ask?”

Castiel shrugs and doesn’t take his eyes off the clouds.  “Seemed polite.  Do you mind?”

 _Yes._  

“No.”  His heart beats rapidly in his chest.  (No that’s wrong his heart was ripped out how can it still be beating?)  “Why, you got someone in mind?”  

“I…”  Is that a blush on his cheeks?  “I like someone at school.  And though nothing will probably happen, I wanted to check just in case.  It feels like it’d be a betrayal otherwise.”

He’s right.  

It does.

\- - - -

Dean learns over the next few weeks that he would make a terrible spy.  His questions are nowhere near subtle, he doesn’t blend in enough to eavesdrop, and he knows better than to outright ask anyone.  Even so, he does his best to find out who the hell Jimmy’s got a crush on.

And yes, he’s well aware of how stupidly childish he’s being.  He should let the damn kid like whoever he likes and wish him luck because he sure as fuck isn’t going to make a move.  (Oh how he _wants_ and _yearns_ to, but the kid’s still fifteen and he just turned twenty three.  Not gonna happen.)  Jealousy might be petty, but he really doesn’t give it shit.

Seriously, just add it to the list of things that make him a terrible person.  At this point one more isn’t gonna hurt.

Try as he might, he can’t figure out who it is.  He thinks maybe it’s one of the other wrestlers.  But while Jimmy’s polite and friendly with them all, that doesn’t exactly scream crush.  For a while he thinks about asking Kevin or Krissy for more, but Krissy’s a freshman and adamantly not interested in boys (yeah right) and at this point Dean’s starting to worry Kevin will get suspicious.

There’s also the possibility of asking Jimmy himself, but that bothers him on so many levels that he buries that idea right next to all his hopes of one day being with Cas.

\- - - -

With his minimal access to student records, he finds out when Jimmy’s birthday is.  He gets the information to Krissy and bribes her to do him a favor.

(“What do you care about Novak’s birthday, Winchester?”

“I’ll double my offer if you don’t ask questions.”

“... We have a deal.”)

They throw the kid a surprise party during practice, complete with small gifts (and the first edition of _The Great Gatsby_ which Dean carefully slips into the bottom of the pile) and cake with a single candle.  Jimmy’s touched, thanking his teammates in turn.  Donna eventually breaks them up and makes them do an abbreviated practice (only after giving Jimmy a big bear hug to wish him a very happy sweet sixteen).

That night Cas makes love to him under a starry sky.  It reminds him so vividly of that first time before Cas disappeared that he can’t help but cry.

\- - - -

The wrestling season’s done for most of the kids.  A few of them have a chance to compete for regional titles, Jimmy among them.  Which means more one on one training with the five kids that are left.  Donna works with the three seniors and Dean takes the two juniors.

When the qualifiers for states come, Dean of course is there to offer support.  The auditorium’s full and it’s noisy even from where they wait in the hallway.  Jimmy’s a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth and ringing his hands through his hair over and over until it stands up at ridiculous angles.

(Dean takes a moment to appreciate it before he steps in.)

“Dude, you gotta chill.”

“I’m trying,” he whines as he turns on his heel and does another lap between the water fountain and a row of lockers.  

“Talk to me.  Tell me something so you have a distraction.”

“Like what?”  Another turn, another lap.

“I dunno.”  Dean watches helplessly as the kid works himself into a mess.  “Why’d you decide to do wrestling?”

“It felt familiar.”

Dean’s jaw clicks.  He judiciously decides to ignore the implications there, even as his mind calls forth old dreams where ghost Castiel would offer to practice various holds with him.  “You like doing it?”

“Usually.  There are times like this when I wonder if it’s worth the effort.”

On his next pass, Dean puts an arm out in front of him.  Jimmy bumps into him before stopping.  From the auditorium, they can hear Jimmy’s match being announced.  The teenager audibly gulps and looks like he’s about two seconds away from wringing his hands in dismay.  

“Hey.”  He pats the kid on the shoulder, then lets his hand roam up to rub the back of his neck briefly.  “You’re gonna do great.”

The contact’s fleeting, but Jimmy’s reaction is instantaneous.  He goes from jittery kid who’s about to puke to the image of serenity.  It’s… kinda hot, actually, but Dean’s gotten pretty good at compartmentalizing at this point.

Normally he refrains from watching the matches.  Not just Jimmy’s, but all the kid’s.  It’s a superstition leftover from his own wrestling days (Gordon threw a fit when he lost three matches in a row but then won the next two when Dean was sick with the flu - the idea kind of stuck after that).  But he can’t help but sneak a peek at Jimmy.

Dean thought the kid was a thing of beauty before, but seeing him wrestle?  

It ends in record time.  The team’s high-fiving Jimmy on his win and Dean barely has time to say how proud he is of the kid before he has to disappear.  Awkward boner and all, he figures a quick retreat is in order.

Cas is in a good mood that night.  He smiles and giggles as they fuck, sloppily kissing and sighing happily.  Dean plays along.  “What’s got you so cheery tonight?”

“I won my wrestling match.  I’m going to states in a few weeks.”  There’s a greedy kiss where Cas’ tongue demands entrance.  After he’s left Dean breathless, he nibbles at his bottom lip in time with his thrusts.  “You proud of me?”

“So fucking proud of you.”  A few grunts as Cas gets a rhythm really going, nailing his prostate over and over.  “You did so well baby, so proud so proud… oh _fuck_ Jimmy you did so good-”

Immediately Cas’ movements stop.  Dean barely registers the loss before Cas is starting to pull out.  

“What did you call me?”

“Don’t stop,” Dean begs, trying to use his legs to draw Cas back in.  

“What did you call me?” he repeats firmly and pushes Dean’s legs away.  

What _did_ he call him?

He’s so confused he doesn’t fight it when Cas slips out.  “Dean… You’ve never called me Jimmy before…”

Facing those ravishing baby blues staring into his soul, Dean does the only thing he can.  He flees.

\- - - -

Jimmy looks at him funny for a bit but Dean ignores it because he’s good at ignoring things.  Besides, there’s no way the kid could _know_ .  Even if he thought dream Dean looked like anyone in his day to day life (which he _shouldn’t_ , because Dean’s done a damn good job of keeping himself in a teenage form in their dreams), there’s no way Jimmy could reasonably think there’s a connection.  Ever since Castiel died, the whole situation's been so truly fucking bizarre that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell Jimmy stands a chance of sorting it out.

… But there shouldn’t have been any chance that Cas would become a ghost or somehow inhabit another person’s body.  

So just to be safe, Dean goes back to putting distance between them.  It’s all professional, by-the-books coaching.  No asking how Jimmy’s doing with his license, no suggesting books the kid might like, nothing that’s not wrestling.

(And yes, he can tell that Jimmy’s hurt when he brushes the kid off during practice.  Especially with states coming up, the kid could use a more understanding mentor.  It kills him a little inside to do it, but Dean stays firm.)

While he’s being a total cowardly piece of shit, he does the same with dream Cas again.  Half the time when he falls asleep, he ends up in their dreamed space.  Cas is there - of course he is - looking so lonely as he tries to find Dean.  He forces the dream to dissolve and drowns himself in any image he can conjure.  

Unlike his earlier avoidance, it’s not depression that drives him.  Even the guilt has edged away and yielded to something worse.  

Now it’s blind panic.

\- - - -

It’s been pouring rain for days.  April showers, May flowers blah blah blah.  States are coming up and then Dean’s done for the school year.  Donna wants him to commit to coming back next year.  Truth be told, he doesn’t know if he should.  (Oh but he knows he will anyway.  He’s weak and masochistic, remember?)  He keeps putting off the decision, says he’s gotta look at his fall schedule.  

On this fine, rainy day after practice, Dean finds himself the last one to leave after practice.  He laments not bringing an umbrella.

“Fucking monsoon,” he grumbles.  Walking to the car is going to drench him for sure.  

As if to spite his morbid prediction, the rain starts to light up.  Oh, he’ll still be near soaked through, but the weather’s tormenting him specifically when the big heavy drops turn into a misty spray.  

He hovers by the main doors, building up the courage to get it over with and rush out to the Impala.  Through the windows, he sees a familiar red Honda pulling out of the near empty lot.  

_Huh, guess the kid got his license after all._

Only because it’s safe with Jimmy a full parking lot away, he lets himself smile and be happy.  But again, the weather fucking hates him.  

There’s a loud screech, the sound of wheels spinning but not getting any traction.  In horror, Dean watches as the car starts hydroplaning.  It gains speed down a small hill, skidding over a curb and straight into a tree.  

His chest constricts and his world is narrowed down to the head of a pin.  His feet carry him across the lot, slipping a bit on the grass when he reaches the tree.  

 _Oh god oh god please be okay I can’t lose you in another fucking car crash I can’t I won’t please please_ **_fuck-_ **

In that instant, with his heart hammering in his chest and adrenaline pumping through his veins, how stupid he’s been.  Cas in his life again is a fucking gift that he’s been squandering and who _cares_ if he’s younger it’s _Cas_ he _loves_ Cas they’ll work it out but not if he does again don’t be dead don’t be dead oh _god_ don’t let him be dead.

There are a few kids loitering around campus.  He hears one of them shout to call 911 but otherwise they fade into the background.  His hands scramble to pull open the door.

The smell of the airbag makes him gag, but he ignores it.  The kid’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead and his head droops to the side.  

“Cas, you alright?”

No answer.

“Cas, look at me!”  Dean grabs his face and slaps him gently on the cheek.  Still nothing.  “Dammit, Cas!”

Slowly, his eyes blink open and he looks at him, eyes not quite focusing.  “Dean…?”

“Yeah, I got you, don’t worry.”  He reaches over to unbuckle him and eases him out of the car.  The kid’s too dazed to walk on his own, so Dean picks him up and carries him to the sidewalk.  The rain’s still coming down, so he takes off his jacket and wraps it around his shoulders.  “You alright?”

“Why did you call me Cas?”

Oh _shit._  He coughs to cover up his renewed terror.  “You probably have a concussion,” he mumbles, keeping his gaze down.  “Don’t worry an ambulance is on the way.”

On cue, they start to hear the distant sound of sirens.

To cut off any more questions, he leaves Jimmy where he is and goes to grab his stuff from the car.  It’s all in a little messenger bag hidden under a trenchcoat.  He dawdles a bit, wondering how to get out of this.  The concussion line’s pretty good, something he can use if it turns out to be true.  But he knows how Cas and Jimmy are.  They get an idea and they don’t let it go.  He’s going to push and push until Dean caves and tells him everything.

The paramedics are loading him into the ambulance when he finally works up the nerve to walk back.  He hands over the bag to one of the EMTs, about to duck out when he hears a weak, scared voice call out to him.

“Come with me.”  A hand reaches out to him.  “Dean, _please_ …”

“Yeah.”  He swallows the lump in his throat and takes Jimmy’s hand.  “Yeah, okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> MCD: only refers to Cas dying in part one/two and his disappearance; there are no new MCD but since dean's coping with it throughout this story i put it in the tags
> 
> underage: dean and cas have dream sex and at the time cas is only 15/16 (dean is 22/23); from cas' pov it would likely appear that dean is also 15/16


End file.
